Collateral (8 page)

Ashley equation. There were hints

before I accepted it. Tendrils

of that elusive emotion, infiltrating

our togetherness. Especially our

intimate togetherness. Before Cole,

I never understood the meaning

of making love. My previous sexual

adventures came in two categories.

One: tepid fumbling—no play, no

passion, no real point to the effort.

Certainly, no orgasm, at least not

for me. Or, two: overheated romps—

no concern, no caring, no real

connection. Lightweight orgasm, yes,

and short-term fun, but nothing worth

holding on to. Either way, I always

ended up disappointed. Sex and love

were two distinct entities in my mind,

as separate as east and west.

Cole fused them, and although

I refused to believe it at first,

the merge began right away.

Together at the Air and Space Museum.

We even managed to drag Darian and

Spence out of the bedroom for a few

hours. It was fun playing tourist, even

if Darian did complain.
What's next?

LEGOLAND?
But she managed to enjoy

the day. We all did. The guys were

attentive. Proprietary, even, holding

us close beside them. A couple of times

I noticed Cole watching children running

ahead of their parents. In a private

moment, I asked, “You like kids, huh?”

He nodded.
Yeah. I want a big family

one day.
He squeezed my hand.
You?

“Considering I work at a preschool

and want to teach, I like them okay.”

That didn't quite satisfy him.
How

about kids of your own?
The weird

thing was, I hadn't really thought much

about it before. Marriage was a distant

target. “Of course I want them. Ask me

how many after I've taught for a while.”

Spoke loudly to me. Here was a man

with a heart. Not a single previous

boyfriend had ever mentioned

children or wanting a family. Whether

or not I shared Cole's dream, that he

had not been afraid to talk about it

illustrated an abstract kind of courage.

I liked him. A lot. Already. That scared me.

But not enough to close myself off.

Not enough to send him away. Cole

had roused intense curiosity. This

gentle-souled, tough-hided soldier

was an enigma. A puzzle I wanted

to solve. A stranger who felt like

someone I knew once upon a time.

I didn't consider the future at all.

Enough, to explore the museum,

hand in hand. And afterward to stop

by Cole's uncle's place, where the boys

were officially staying while on leave.

Followed that up with dinner at a little

oceanfront seafood joint, sharing platters

of crab and oysters on the half shell.

And drinking just enough decent wine.

All barriers lowered, when we got

back to the apartment, Darian

and Spence were hot and heavy

through the door. They didn't waste

a second, went straight back to her

bedroom. Which left Cole and me

alone in the front room. I felt like

an awkward teenager, wanting

to kiss him but thinking I really

ought to go brush my teeth first.

“Be right back,” I said. My hand

trembled as I loaded my toothbrush.

“Jeez. What's up with you?”

I asked the person in the mirror.

She didn't answer, and I thought

that was good, at least. All

fresh-mouthed, I went back to

the living room. Cole watched

me with those serious eyes,

a question floating in their gold

sea. I slid my arms up around

his neck, invitation heavy in

the kiss I gave him. He lifted me

as if I were weightless. Our lips

never disconnected as he

carried me to my room, eased

me onto my bed. It was romantic.

Sexy. And even sexier when

he stopped, took off his shirt.

Marines have to be fit. But Cole

was a whole different level

of fit—every muscle chiseled

and skin smooth as suede.

I started to unbutton my blouse.

No. Let me. Please?
I loved how

he asked permission, all the while

taking complete control. I also

loved how he didn't hurry. Each

time he loosened a button, he kissed

the skin just beneath it. When

my entire top half was exposed,

his tongue explored it, inch by

goose bump–covered inch. And

by the time he unzipped my jeans,

slid them off my quaking legs,

my panties had soaked through.

Jesus. Some things are worth

waiting for, my California girl.

Took me over the top. In that

moment, I wanted to be his,

and so gave him things I'd always

resisted. BC (Before Cole), oral

sex had been offered, and received,

with definite boundaries. That night,

we exchanged it with abandon.

I opened my legs wide, pushed

his face in between, urged his tongue

deep inside me, asked his fingers

to follow. I let him bring me right to

the edge. Stopped him. “My turn.”

He was down to boxers by then.

BC, I'd been with a grand total

of four men. And if I were to describe

“size,” I'd have to say three average,

one little. Comparing to breast size,

three B-cups, one double-A. Cole

is a C-plus, and while that didn't

surprise me, neither did I expect

it. They say size doesn't matter,

but in my estimation, it makes things

both problematic and sort of amazing.

I quickly learned to relax my jaws,

coax him inside my mouth little by

little. It was intense, and all I wanted

in those moments was to make

him feel like the most important

man in the world. I still had no clue

how quickly he would become that.

When he finally slipped inside

me. If I hadn't been so wet,

it would have been uncomfortable.

As it was, he filled me up completely,

a sensation I had never known.

He flipped onto his back, pulled me

on top of him. His eyes never left

my face as he lifted my hips, slid

me backward, against his critically

hard erection. A gentle push and when

my own eyes jumped wide, he smiled.

There was no pain, but extreme

pressure against that deep internal

spot some people argue does not exist.

It does; at least I definitely have one,

and Cole was the first guy ever to

find it. I am not a moaner by nature

and, in fact, have always believed

all real-life sex-squeals were put on,

some sorry attempt at porn sound-

track noises or something. But, totally

unplanned, unforeseen, and unbidden,

a minuscule
ah-ah-ah
began in the back

of my throat, grew into a steady
ooooh

as I climbed toward orgasm. It swelled

into a small scream as I reached

the plateau. A foreign place. Almost

surreal, and he wasn't finished yet.

A shift of bodies, and then he was on

top, rocking fast and faster into me.

I locked my legs around his waist,

lifting my hips to make him touch

that elusive spot again. He took a long

time. A very long time. We reached

the pinnacle together. When our bodies

were quite finished, still we stayed joined

until we had no choice but to slip apart.

Then Cole turned me on one side, urged

me into the bowl of his body, held me

there.
Exceptional,
he whispered into

my hair.
Extraordinary.
Within a few

minutes, his soft, steady breathing told

me he was asleep. I closed my eyes,

but didn't tumble straight into dreams.

Rather, I thought about how quickly lives

can change. Because, while intellect

insisted this was likely a transient connection,

a sliver of emotion really hoped it wasn't.

An early riser. Even watery

rays of predawn light will trigger

the built-into-my-brain wakeup

call. So the next morning, when

my eyes stuttered open at eight

oh six, my first thought was,
Wow.

That's weird.
And then, in this order:

Who is in bed with me? Cole. Right.

Wait. What day is it? Monday? No!

I'll never make my nine a.m.

I extricated myself from Cole's arm,

still resting in the U of my waist.

He moved restlessly, but the depth

of his breathing indicated sleep.

I grabbed some clothes, hurried

into the bathroom to shower off

the remnants of sweat-soaked sex.

I was already struggling a little

in my developmental learning

class and didn't want to miss it.

I wrote a quick note to Cole:
Have

classes until four. Back by five.

Hope to see you then. If not, when?

I left it closed in the bedroom door,

where he'd see it when he got up.

Hurried to class, and managed

to make it with two minutes to spare.

Spent the rest of the day trying

to concentrate. Wondering if Cole

would be there when I got home.

He and Spence had gone grocery

shopping. The two of them were in

the kitchen, slurping beer and doing

their best to cook something resembling

spaghetti. Darian diverted me to

my bedroom.
Thank God for Ragu!

she said, laughing.
Now, if they can

just figure out how to do al dente.

I put my books on my desk. Noticed

that Cole had made the bed. “What's

up with all the domesticity?” I wondered

out loud. “The way to a girl's heart?”

Just saying it gave the fractured cliché

some weight. “Whose idea was it to make

us dinner, anyway?” I expected her to take

credit. But, no. Apparently it was Cole's.

He said he owed you.
Darian smiled.

He didn't say what for, but I've got

a pretty good idea. Girl, I've never heard

you, like, howl before!
Then she laughed.

My face ignited, but I laughed, too.

Well, a little. They
heard
? “Compared

to you, it was more like a whimper. But . . .”

I never shared the details of my sex life—

or lack thereof. But I knew she really

wanted them at that moment. I didn't

know what to tell her, except, “Cole

is amazing.” In more ways than one.

Wasn't half-bad. In fact, bolstered

by extra onion, garlic, and a fresh

grate of Parmesan, the Ragu proved

pretty darn good. The guys even

seemed to understand the meaning

of al dente. We ate. Drank a little.

Enjoyed dinner-table talk about past

problems and future fears. It was more

domestic than anything I'd enjoyed

since I was a little girl. The guys

cleared and washed the dishes

by hand. It was such a sweet gesture

that later, when I had to go searching

for my favorite knife, finally finding it

in the drawer with the spatulas, it

bothered me only a little. After dinner,

we watched a scary movie on HBO,

and by the evening's end, the four

of us were solidly a pair of couples.

My homework suffered (in fact,

it languished completely). But sex

that night was even better because

with the basics already accomplished,

Cole and I made it all about nuance.

Darian, who had missed Monday,

missed Tuesday, too. I have no idea

if she and Spence slept all day,

emerging like vampires when the sun

went down, or what. Neither do

I know for sure how Cole entertained

himself while I was at school.

All I know is, he was waiting for me

when I got home. Some nights,

we had dinner out. Others, we cooked

together like a regular committed

couple. It was a pleasant holding pattern

until the fledgling soldiers had to return

to Pendleton for SOI—School of Infantry,

where recruits learn vital warfare skills—

Machine Gun on the Run or Grenades 101.

Cole and Spence would sort into

different groups there—Cole to the

Infantry Training Battalion, and Spencer

to the Marine Combat Training Battalion,

before moving on to his chosen

Military Occupation Specialty training.

I was clueless about such details.

All I knew about the Marine Corps

was that it was about to swallow

the new guy in my life. The tall,

serious one from Wyoming, who